An American Heiress in Earls Court
by dietplainlite
Summary: When Thomas Adler sends his daughter to visit relatives in England, he imagines her younger cousin Molly Hooper will have a calming influence on the tempestuous beauty. The poor man. If only he realized that influence flows both ways.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N I do not own these characters, other than originals. This story is my submission for the October Ladies of Sherlock challenge.**

Molly Hooper's cousin stepped into the bedroom and dropped her dressing gown, eliciting a gasp from Molly.

"What?" Irene said, raising a delicately arched eyebrow. She sat in front of the mirror, wearing only her chemise, knee length drawers, and stockings and began experimenting with her hair. The dark, glossy tresses always looked best framing Irene's heart shaped face, but she wanted to do something more elaborate tonight. Molly's lady's maid, whom they shared, was hopeless with hair, but Molly had some talent with it. She might be able to convince her younger cousin to help if she could get past her apparent shock at Irene's appearance.

"Well," Molly said, gathering up the dressing gown and laying it on the bed. "First, I've not even seen my little sister in anything less than a petticoat in years. But also. Well. Erm. Irene. Your underthings."

"What about them?" she said in alarm, inspecting her fine silk stockings. "I haven't got any holes or tears do I?"

"No." Molly said. "That's rather the point." She lowered her voice. "They're so—nice. I don't think I've got as much fine lace on my three nicest frocks combined. Did you buy all new things to come here? I don't see why it was necessary. "

"I did buy all new, but not because I was coming here. The other things were worn out and had holes."

"Don't you patch them?"

Irene looked at Molly as though she'd just sprouted horns.

"Some, yes. To keep for certain times of the month," she said. "But otherwise I like all of my things to look and feel nice."

"But, no one's going to see them, so I don't understand."

"I see them, and that's important enough." Irene peered at the younger girl. "Molly, your father is richer than even mine. Are you saying you go around with holes in your underthings? And patches?"

"Well, my father didn't become wealthy from wasting things." Molly groaned. "Oh lord, has my mother seen your things?"

"Well I'm sure your lady's maid's told the housekeeper and the housekeeper's told her plenty. She just wouldn't say anything to you because I'm certain she'd like to pretend you don't even know what underclothes are. Now come on and help me with my hair."

The girls had been invited to a fancy dress ball hosted by Captain Gregory Lestrade in honor of his ward Sally's eighteenth birthday. They were to dress as Autumn and Winter, with two of Molly's friends, another pair of cousins, rounding out the year as Spring and Summer. Molly had ordered a rich burgundy velvet cap sleeved evening gown with a bodice just a bit lower than she would normally wear. She usually only had her dressmaker cut her dresses and then sewed them herself, but this one had so much rouching on the two layered skirt and draping on the bustle and train that it was beyond her skill. The dressmaker had sewn on an array of silk autumn leaves in a swirling pattern that complemented the fabric's draping and her milliner had fashioned a lovely matching wreath for Molly's hair. Once the leaves were snipped off, the gown would easily do for any of the winter and Christmas balls.

Irene's gown was a vision of silk and gossamer that Molly doubted would ever be suitable for future wear, except to be done over for another fancy dress ball. The style was Grecian inspired, like the gowns from the early part of the century. Molly had seen Irene in it at the final fitting. When she stood still, the gown was deceptively modest, barely skimming her body, showing off her graceful arms and decolette . However, once Irene moved, the fabric clung to her figure, outlining the curve of her hips and legs and, since she wore the less restrictive stays of the time period, even the soft swell of her abdomen. The white silk under layer had been adorned silver and blue beads in snowflake patterns, and the gossamer overlay with enough crystal drops to outfit a moderately sized chandelier. On the dressing table lay two dozen hair pins with the same crystal drops attached.

It was quite a blessing that Molly's mother would not be attending the party, though she knew that Mrs. Hooper would hear all about what her husband's niece had worn by the next morning.

Irene was always "My niece," when Mrs. Hooper referred to her good qualities (her grace and beauty) and accomplishments (lovely singing voice and tidy needlework) but she was "Mr. Hooper's niece" when the older woman disapproved. She usually ended such statements with "but I suppose that's what it's like in America."

Irene had debuted in New York in the spring and had promptly refused to marry any of the beaux who flooded the drawing room of her father's townhouse. Mr. Adler had tried to banish her to their country home in New Jersey until she came to her senses, but Irene had somehow convinced him to let her come to London to visit her cousin and see if she found English boys more amenable. He trusted his late wife's brother as a sensible man, and hoped that Irene's serious younger cousin might have a steadying influence on his daughter. There had been a mild scandal when Irene had been spotted riding her horse astride in Central Park.

The girls had not seen each other since they were still in short dresses, when the Adlers had made the voyage to England to spend the summer. They became good friends immediately, sharing a few interests despite the differences in their temperaments, and had kept up a furious correspondence over the subsequent years. Molly had squealed with delight, much to her mother's ire, when the letter had arrived from Mr. Adler asking if he could send Irene for a few months. Molly begged her father to send a telegram in reply instead of writing, and he'd agreed. Two weeks later, they'd collected Irene and her chaperone (a dour distant relative who wanted to return to Devon) from the docks and ensconced Irene in the pretty guest room that connected to Molly's room.

"Do you want any of it down?" Molly asked as she laid the hair pins out neatly. She did the same with Irene's brush, comb and hair jar.

"All up. Are you arranging my hair or preparing for surgery?"

Molly blushed and began brushing Irene's hair. It hung almost to her waist in soft waves. Irene closed her eyes and practically purred, causing Molly's blush to deepen.

"Shouldn't this wait until you've got your dress on?"

"I can step into it."

Molly pinned Irene's hair in elaborate coils and plaits on top of her head, arranging the adorned hair pins in a wreath-like pattern that looked like a halo. When she saw herself in the mirror, Irene sprang from the chair and gave Molly a fierce hug. The two girls were about the same size, but Irene's strength took Molly by surprise. She hugged her cousin back and then went to call for their maid.

"I don't know why we have to have her when we could help each other get dressed," Irene said.

Molly shrugged. "It's just the way it's done. You have your own maid at home."

"That's because there's no one else to help me, and our corsets tie in back and our bodices button in back and it's ridiculous. Boys' clothes are so much easier to put on."

"You say that as if you've worn them!"

Irene smiled. It was the smile that always appeared right before she said something wicked. "I have. My friend and I dress as boys all the time and go out that way. It's the only way to see certain parts of the city."

Molly sat down on the bed. Thanks to her father's indulgence regarding her education, she did possess a few progressive attitudes, and while she had imagined how lovely it would feel to run around outside wearing trousers, she had never actually thought to do it, despite having a younger brother whose clothes would likely fit her.

"Where do you go? And when? In broad daylight?"

Irene started to answer but was interrupted by the arrival of Kate, their maid. Irene asked her to go fetch her gown from the other room, then sat down beside Molly.

"I'll tell you all about it later," she said. "Or maybe I can just show you. I'm a little tired of going on social calls and riding around the Park."

Before Molly could answer, Kate came back with the gown and the conversation turned to clothes and gossip for the next hour. Molly dressed behind a screen, and as Kate tightened her corset, Molly wished briefly that she hadn't been so practical about her dress for tonight. Irene might just scandalize everyone at the party, but at least she would do it in comfort. Molly was so used to wearing a corset that she used to not notice, but a few months ago her mother had begun pestering her about her waist size, even though it hadn't gotten any larger. She imagined it either had something to do with getting her married off, or there was some competition among her mother's friends regarding whose daughter had the smallest waist.

"Kate, that'll do. My frock will be too big if you lace me any tighter."

"Sorry, Miss. Your mum told me that she was concerned about your posture."

"Now, Kate," Irene said. "Look at Molly. Her posture is fine. And my aunt would be much more upset to have her daughter going out in ill-fitting clothes."

"Yes, Miss Adler," Kate said, and helped Molly into her petticoat. She struggled a bit getting Molly's bustle fastened around her waist, and then on went the heavy skirt and the bodice.

Irene applauded as Molly stepped from behind the screen. She made quick work of her hair, braiding it and pinning it in a thick coil at her crown. She pinned the wreath in place and dismissed Kate as soon as she'd assisted them with their shoes.

Molly pulled Irene over to the chaise near the window. She sat gingerly, careful not to crush her bustle, and once again envied Irene her freedom of movement.

"Now," she whispered. "Tell me everything."

"Well, we don't go out in daylight unless we really dirty up our faces. It's much easier to pass at night."

"But isn't it dangerous? Even for grown men it's not safe in some parts of London after dark. I imagine New York isn't much better."

"Oh in some ways it's worse. But we never go to the really bad parts. Just the parts there the rich boys go to play and pretend they're in the bad part of town. Music halls mostly. Keeps us safe from men who like boys since everyone's there to see the girls."

"But you can't look more than fourteen! How do you get in?"

"We pretend to be errand boys. Gets us in everywhere, even backstage. There's even a few girls we actually run errands for. That's how we got to see the inside of a brothel one night."

"You are teasing me now, Irene!"

Irene clasped Molly's hand in hers and leaned forward. "I promise you, Molly. I would not lie to you about this. Edith and I ran an errand for a can-can dancer who doesn't just dance for her money. She had us run a note to her mistress saying she wouldn't be returning home that evening, with a description of the man she was going home with. They do that in case something bad happens. "

"What was she like? Her mistress?"

Irene laughed. "I've gotten my hands on more than a few trashy novels, so I was expecting so much velvet and brocade and red and purple everywhere. But it was really not very different from any other home except that all of the bedrooms had been cut in half to create more bedrooms. And of course the number of girls in their underclothes right in the parlor with the men. And the Madame, she was southern, or said she was. Miss Louella, they called her. She smelled better than any woman I've ever been around, and I think she knew right away we weren't boys but didn't say anything. Told me I was welcome back any time, and she might have some small jobs for me."

Molly stared at her cousin for a long moment. "You're not going back to America, are you?" she said softly.

The older girl straightened up slightly, surprised. "What makes you say that?"

"I just can't see you going back there once you've gotten this close to the Continent. And I think you'd rather do anything than settle down and have babies."

"You can keep a secret?"

"Of course, Irene."

"I purposefully ran up an astonishing amount of charges at all of the stores where my father has credit. I knew he wouldn't cut me off, because how I look reflects on him. He started giving me my allowance in cash and told me I couldn't ask for a dime more if I ran out before the month was up. I am actually quite capable of living within my means so I've been saving part of it for the last two years and I have quite enough to travel the Continent for at least a year if I'm careful or settle somewhere in the Mediterranean for longer. "

Molly was completely gob smacked. She'd know that Irene to be adventurous, but she'd also thought her to be impulsive. However, this plan was absolutely brilliant, not to mention devious.

"Are you going to leave, then?"

"Well, I do still need a companion of some sort in order to not arouse too much curiosity. Miss Louella told me, the only way a woman can have true freedom is to be a wealthy widow or a Madame. But I think that with enough money and an older companion I should be fine. Though it'd be absolutely wonderful to find some wicked poet to run away with, and the best poets are still in England. All we've got is Whitman." Irene shuddered and stood up. "Oh dear, don't look so glum. I don't plan on leaving just yet, and I might lose my nerve at the last moment and go running home to father or marry some impoverished Lord in need of an American heiress to bolster the coffers."

It tickled Molly to hear Irene speak so plainly about such things. More than one of her friends had married into the aristocracy. Objections to new wealth and the merchant class often fell away when faced with crumbling manors and lands that no longer produced any income, but people didn't speak about the matches that way. They were always presented as love matches, with the high born parents showing the right amount of socially acceptable reluctance before welcoming the girl and her income into the fold.

"I'm somewhat afraid that's going to be my fate," Molly sighed. She accepted Irene's outstretched hands and stood up. "I'm only seventeen and I only came out on my birthday, and Mother is already sighing over the lack of suitors."

"Well, Molly, I don't honestly see why you don't have more. I assumed that since your Mother didn't want anyone calling on me until after the policy that she'd extended it to you in the meantime. You're absolutely lovely to look at and to talk to."

"I'm not, really," Molly said, double checking that her clothes were all in order and searching for her reticule. "Some of them are fine, but with the really charming ones, or the really good looking ones, I either get tongue tied or start talking about inappropriate things."

"Oh do tell!"

"Not those sorts of things. I start talking about anatomy and biology because they're the first things that pop into my mind. Consequently I already have a reputation for being ghoulish and strange. And I probably am. I just wish Mother would give up and Father would let me go to university. But I'm sure that Mother's thrilled you'll be around because you'll have dozens of suitors and she'll make me chaperone and she'll hope one of them falls in love with me when they realize you're out of their league."

"Molly," Irene said, taking her cousin by the shoulders. "Do you want to get married?"

"Yes, of course. One day. To the right man. And I don't even know what that means, but I think it'd have to be someone who doesn't turn green when I mention what I've just read about the thyroid or the spleen. I doubt I'll find him among the set we'll be celebrating with tonight."

"Well, there's only one way to find out. I should probably wear my shawl downstairs if I don't want you mother to faint. Get your wrap. And if we don't find our gentlemen tonight, we'll just have to steal your brother's clothes and see what other sorts London has to offer."

"Irene, you're not serious?"

"Of course I am. Don't worry. It'll be grand."


	2. Chapter 2

Sally Donovan thought longingly of the stack of new books she'd received for her birthday as she gazed out the window at the first carriages arriving for her party.

Greg meant well, and there were a handful of people she'd be glad to see tonight, but she would rather spend the evening by the fire with a book, her kitten curled in her lap, than have to navigate this party.

Everything was always so awkward. Many of the people—children and adults- she'd grown up around meant well, and they all respected her guardian so much that even the adults who disapproved of Greg's raising her kept their mouths mostly shut. But people still just often didn't know how to behave around her.

There were even those who still gossiped that she wasn't Captain Lestrade's ward at all, but his daughter. Of course they were wrong. She remembered her father, and had a little tintype of him in a leather case, handsome and impossibly young looking in his uniform. She mostly resembled her mother, though the beautiful woman's skin had been the color of cherry wood. But the size and shape of Sally's eyes brought her squarely back to her father.

Sally had spent the first seven years of her life on a small farm in Pennsylvania. Her father had left Philadelphia society in order to be with the woman he loved. When they died, both of influenza, she had been taken in briefly by her mother's friend Bess while waiting for word from Captain Lestrade.

"I know he was wonderful friends with your father, Sarah, but don't get your hopes up. It's a big responsibility for any man to take on a child, especially a bachelor. But to take on a child such as you is an even greater risk. It might ruin his chances of ever getting married. "

"I'd think he'd not want to marry a woman who had such objections anyway," Sally had said.

Bess had smiled wryly. "You're wiser than most, then," she said, and tucked Sally into bed between her two youngest children.

"Why can't I stay here with you?" Sally said. "I know there's money to take care of me."

"I'd love that, baby. And if he doesn't come, maybe we can make it work. But this is what your parents wished. Maybe they wanted a better life for you, away from the shadows of that horrible war and everything that came before it."

Captain Lestrade had shown up, though his letter saying he was coming had been lost and they had almost given up hope when he arrived. He wrested Sally's inheritance away from her father's family, who wanted to lay claim to it without also laying claim to her, and brought her home to London to stay.

She'd been happy, for the most part. Greg was absolutely wonderful and kind and had always treated her like his very own daughter. He answered all of her questions as frankly as he could about the whispers and stares they received when they went on their daily walk. He saw to it that she received the finest education available to girls at the time, and hired tutors on the side to supplement that education. In fact, a new one would arrive on Monday to begin teaching her advanced maths. He would also be instructing Edmund Hooper in chemistry.

Greg did not like gossip, but when he'd told her about the tutor earlier in the week, he gave a few basic facts about his background. The second son of an impoverished aristocrat, the young man had to work for a living while taking a break from Cambridge.

"Taking a break?" Sally had said. "Is he ill?"

"Ah. Well, Sally—"

"He got sent down, didn't he? Forgive me, sir, but why would you hire a tutor for me that's been sent down from university?"

"His brother assures me it was all a misunderstanding. He's attempting to remedy the situation, but until then, young Mr. Holmes has to make his way in the world as he can. I've been assured he's brilliant. He'll instruct you on Wednesdays and Fridays and will work with Master Hooper on the other days. "

"I just don't understand it. Men throwing away their educations when there are women who'd kill to go to university. I'm not sure I would want to, but I know that Molly Hooper does. Yet her father probably wouldn't spare a dime to get her a tutor. They stopped educating her formally last year so she has to sneak her brother's textbooks.

"Now, Sally, let's not get too upset about things we can't help." He'd turned to leave, but stopped at the door. "Perhaps you could see to it that Miss Hooper knows she is welcome to visit on Wednesday and Friday mornings."

"I hear she's got a cousin in town so unless she's also keen on algebra, I doubt Molly will be able to take me up on it."

"We'll see," he'd said. "Good day, poppet."

Sally turned from the window. She had to go downstairs to greet her guests. She took one last look in the mirror, adjusting the wings of her costume. She had chosen to go as Titania, Queen of the Fairies. Greg had taken her to see A Midsummer Night's Dream at the Theatre Royal. She had never been one to partake in extreme flights of fancy, but she had been enthralled by the world of the play. She had enjoyed it so much that Greg had given her a copy of the play and several other Shakespearean comedies for her birthday, along with her usual sensation novels, gothic romances and biographies. His sister always admonished him to stop providing her with such "mind rotting tomes," but he couldn't resist how happy they made her.

Much like Molly, Sally had chosen an evening gown in the modern fashion, with a full bustle and yards of draped fabric. Her gown had been made in a beautiful indigo silk with silver beading. Without the elaborate wings, it would serve as a suitable gown for formal events, if she bothered to go to any this winter.

Sally pulled on her gloves and made it to the front hall just as the first guests arrived. Mrs. Morstan and her two daughters. One awful. One delightful. Sally greeted them with the same bright smile and directed them up to the ballroom. This would be the most exhausting part. Once upstairs, she would dance (her card guaranteed to be full this time as it was her party) and speak to people she liked for long spells and people she didn't like for short spells. It certainly wasn't the best way to spend an evening , but she could make it agreeable. Greeting all of her guest, being cheerful and polite, remembering everyone's name even if she'd only met them once, it all terrified her. This had been the very reason she'd always resisted his giving her a party. She'd given in due to a moment of weakness and his very earnest pleading. He had really done so much for her and wanted to do this for her as well. So she smiled and made the best of it, happy to flee to the ballroom as soon as a good majority of her guests had arrived.


	3. Chapter 3

"Of course now he's mostly in lumber but where he really got his start was blockade running during the war. They don't talk about it much, however, because even the Americans find that kind of profiteering to be less than honorable."

Sally smiled tightly at her companion, a gangly young man who'd taken a sudden interest in her over the last month, and Sally hoped that he didn't expect to start calling on her formally now that she could officially be considered to be out socially. He wasn't too bad a sort; he could be highly amusing at times. She merely didn't want him to get the wrong idea about their relationship.

Miss Adler and Miss Hooper had not arrived yet, but that didn't prevent her companion from filling Sally in on every detail he'd been able to suss out about the visiting heiress. His mother was a notorious gossip, and he seemed to have inherited the trait. Their set so rarely saw an injection of new blood that he couldn't resist passing on every detail he could.

"Mr. Anderson, as altruistic as it might be to smuggle goods past enemy lines out of the goodness of one's heart, I can't really blame a man for wanting to be compensated for risking his life. You also forget yourself when speaking so poorly of Americans."

He paled, something she didn't think was possible considering his complexion often resembled the paste she used to secure her book plates. "Of course, Miss Donovan. Forgive me. You've lived in England for more than half of your life. You're such a lovely example of an Englishwoman that it's easy to forget."

"Well, my father and mother were American, so it's not so easy for me to forget."

Sally delighted in seeing Mr. Anderson's skin go from the palest of pale to beet red. That was definitely an advantage to her skin tone. While she did blush, quite often, the change was far less noticeable on her than her peers.

"Mr. Anderson," said a remarkably low voice behind Sally and to her right. "A Miss Allston has been making inquiries regarding your whereabouts. I think it might be wise to join her."

Sally and Anderson turned around simultaneously. She found herself looking up into the catlike grey eyes of a complete stranger. He wore no costume other than a black domino and a three cornered hat. Under the hat, his hair was dark brown, the pomade in it fighting a fruitless battle against what were probably riotous curls. The first impression Sally got of his face was of sharp angles and full lips. He tipped his hat at Sally and turned his attention back to the lamely spluttering Mr. Anderson.

"I don't know what you're implying, but Miss Allston is merely a family friend. I promised her I would lend her a book I brought back from the Continent."

"Well," said the stranger, his eyes widening. "You'd better go fetch it for her."

Anderson looked at Sally, who stared at the stranger. He stuttered a few more nonsense syllables before wishing Sally good evening and wandering away.

Sally turned on the tall stranger. "That was rather rude, wasn't it?"

"Oh, I was under the impression you weren't enjoying the conversation. I can get him back if you'd like."

"I can take care of myself."

"No doubt. That doesn't mean I can't be helpful. It's how gentlemen are supposed to behave, is it not?" His eyes practically twinkled with mirth.

"Who are you, anyhow?"

"We would have been formally introduced on Wednesday, but I couldn't resist getting rid of your pest. Sherlock Holmes."

Her new tutor. Definitely a change from the watery eyed old men and spotty university students Greg usually employed. Though seemingly just as pleased with himself as they all were.

"I don't remember seeing you on the guest list," she said.

"Obviously Captain Lestrade invited me."

"I'm surprised you'd want to associate yourself with the merchant class any more than your circumstances force you to."

He smiled. "One of the interesting privileges of my position. Though most of your fathers could buy and sell mine, I'm the one who can move freely in all manner of society. Within reason of course."

"Scouting for a wife?"

Mr. Holmes shuddered dramatically. "Certainly not. It's my brother's responsibility to refurbish our fortunes. He has the title, after all. I have nothing to offer any of these ladies but a crumbling gamekeeper's cottage and the irrepressible hope that my brother might succumb to some wasting illness before he can produce an heir. I just wanted to get a glimpse of my new peers. Good evening, Miss Donovan. And happy birthday." He tipped his hat again and swept from the room in a swirl of black wool.

Sally had no time to ponder the strange young man before Miss Hooper and Miss Adler arrived, though she barely got a glimpse of the pair before they were surrounded by other young ladies. She started toward the girls, her curiosity piqued. Molly Hooper had a sweet disposition and a lovely face, but she could hardly be called popular. Miss Adler had been accompanying her cousin on social calls, and had apparently made quite an impression. Sally had not yet met the American girl. She usually told the housekeeper to say she was not in, and returned the few cards she received with cards. No matter how polite some of the girls were, she could not shake the impression that they only visited because their mothers didn't want to offend her guardian. Unfortunately, this often meant she missed out on visiting with the girls she did have a bond with, such as Molly Hooper.

Sally rarely went out on visits herself, and when she did, there were only two destinations: Miss Hooper and, when she could stomach Isabelle, the Miss Morstans. She decided that she _would_ extend the invitation to Miss Hooper to visit during her lessons with Mr. Holmes. Molly would benefit, and Sally wouldn't have to deal with her tutor alone. She had a feeling he would be quite trying. It looked as though Miss Adler would have no trouble occupying herself while her cousin was gone.

Before Sally could make her way to the cousins, Molly found her.

"Sally! Happy birthday!" Molly said, taking her by the shoulders for a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'm so sorry we're late. We stopped to pick up my friends, who were going to be our Spring and Summer, but they had taken ill and aren't coming after all. Then our carriage got stuck in some horrible mud in their drive. Oh, how rude of me! This is my cousin, Miss Irene Adler. She's visiting from New York."

Sally turned and was met with a pair of large China blue eyes set in a heart shaped face belonging to a girl who looked like a porcelain doll. She wouldn't have said that those eyes radiated warmth, but they were welcoming and clever and Sally couldn't help but smile.

"Happy birthday, Miss Donovan," she said, taking Sally's hand. "So nice to meet a fellow countrywoman abroad. You make a ravishing Queen of the Fairies, and I'd say it's only fit that you fill in as our Summer, don't you think, Molly?"

"Oh, yes! A Midsummer Night's Dream, of course!" Molly said. "What do you say?"

Sally smiled, still looking at Miss Adler. "Yes. And please, call me Sally."

"Of course. And you must call me Irene."


End file.
